Shirking Retirement
by DocLathropBrown
Summary: Bruce's rescue of Terry from 'Disappearing Inque,' from Bruce's perspective. Also includes a flashback to explain the origin of the exosuit.


**Shirking Retirement**

"Hope you're still listening, old man," The mature female voice intoned, "We're at the Gotham Hills Arena. Get over here right now…. or Batman dies."

His eyes widened in disbelief.

"No! Stay where you are, she'll kill us both if you--" His young protégé's voice was muffled by an unknown force. It didn't matter, he wasn't dead yet, nor would he be. Not, by God, if he had anything to say about it. He stood, knowing what he must do.

Bruce Wayne walked back out into the darkness of the Batcave. He glanced around, looking at the relics of a long forgotten era. He looked down at his old, frail hands. He swore under his breath. He was in no condition to rescue Terry.

But he had no choice. He walked over to the costume case, and looked at his old costume. He opened up the case, and stopped. No, he was in no condition to fight so unprotected. Technically, he shouldn't fight at all, at his age. He would have to bring more substantial protection, in case he and Inque had to come to blows. _But make no mistake Batman_, Bruce thought, _you can't take any risk. Dress for your own protection, nothing more. Once you free Terry, you sit back and let him handle Inque._

But what did he have that would be suitable enough to guard his withered frame? He stopped, mid-thought, and looked over at the exo-suit, deep in the corner of the Cave. He wished he could be excited about re-donning his mantle, but remembering what that suit had done to him before kept his thoughts grim.

**- - -**

**Twenty-five years prior…**

Bruce looked at the television feed on the Batcomputer monitor. He twisted the wrench another time on the bolt, wincing from a brief bout of stiffness in his joints, and shut the casing. On the TV, Jennifer Gleason, daughter of Summer, narrated the chaos from downtown Gotham.

"The supervillain known as Bane is rampaging in downtown Gotham tonight, after an absence of almost eighteen years, during which, he was believed to be dead. Police are attempting to contain the criminal, but are unsuccessful. The big question on everyone's mind right now is: 'Where is Batman?'"

Bruce never trusted the evidence, and he was glad that he hadn't. He saw Bane fall to his seeming "death" eighteen years ago on that flaming cruise ship during the "Batwoman Incident," and after getting wind of someone fitting Bane's description operating again a few months ago, Bruce began assembling the exo-suit. He was no match for Bane unassisted anymore, not at the age of fifty. Standard criminals he could still handle, even the newer rouges like The Geneticist and The Spider.

Of course, he could have just gone and gotten Superman to take Bane down, Lord knows, Clark had offered when he'd heard, but Bruce refused. His rouge, his job.

He climbed into the suit and activated the retraction mechanism. After a whirr, it worked perfectly. The suit shrank down to be hidden beneath his cape. He smiled and pulled his mask back into place. He would need the element of surprise to take Bane down in case the suit didn't work as well as he needed it to. He climbed into the Batmobile and, noticing the car moan from the added weight, shifted it into gear and drove off toward the city.

Arriving at the scene of destruction, Batman hit the brakes and stopped, opening the canopy and leaping out of the Batmobile. Bane stopped, hearing the 'Mobile's rumbling engine, and turned around from the car he was pounding on. He smiled.

"Batman. It's been a long, long time." He said.

"Not long enough for my tastes." Batman retorted, slowing walking toward the towering, muscular figure.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to fall into a flaming, exploding cruise ship?" Bane asked.

"I have some idea."

"No!" Bane yelled. "It took years to recover! Years of constant agony and hate. Deep, got-wrenching hatred for you, Batman! You, the man who subjected me to years of pain!"

"You did it to yourself, Bane. If you'd come quietly, you'd have been spared your suffering." Batman rasped.

"No. You did it to me, and you will pay! That is why I returned to Gotham. One more battle between us, Batman. Our last battle. For at the end of it, I shall be the victor, and I shall _BREAK YOU!"_

Bane began to lurch forward with his fists balled up in anger, Batman took a step back. "If that's the case, Bane. Don't say I didn't try to talk you out of this…." Batman spoke. It was time.

He hit the button on his belt and smiled slyly. The exo-suit began to shift and climb into place to surround him and after a minute; he stood, now encased in an iron bat-themed suit which was estimated to quadruple his strength.

For an instant, Bane looked shocked enough to take a step back, but instead he smiled.

"Now instead of just breaking you, I will mold that tin can into your coffin!" He bellowed, and ran toward him, cocking a fist back.

Batman ran forward to engage the beast, grabbing his fist as it reached him and tossing Bane over his shoulder and into a nearby building. Batman turned to face him.

Bane lay in a heap, surprised. He blinked and, shrugging it off, ran forward again, only to be met by Batman's metallic fist, Bane shuddered as if he'd been hit by an entire building. He stumbled back, disoriented.

Batman smiled beneath his iron mask and stepped forward to pick Bane up and take him into custody, when he suddenly felt a little lightheaded. He decided to just ignore it, until there came a sudden sharp pain from his chest. He fell to his steel knees and grunted in agony.

His body felt weak and he was in enough pain that he knew his heart was over burdened. But what caused it? Most likely the suit, he had over designed it and it was too much strength enhancement for his body, it was like overdosing on steroids.

That's when Bane, now recovered, kicked him in the side and sent him flying over the Batmobile where he fell, onto the ground. He allowed himself to relax; it was the only way the pain may subside for the time being.

Bane walked over to him, laughing. "Did you really think a… Transformer would help you defeat me? No, my old friend. Now, you die."

"You…. first." Batman managed. Bane chuckled and moved down to pick him up. That's when Bruce engaged his emergency tactic, squeezing both fists at once to activate the electro-trap. Bane's hands connected his with suit and instantly, a thousand volts raced through Bane's body, and, after screaming for a few moments, Bane fell over, unconscious.

Batman shut off the electro-trap and breathed heavily for a few minutes, laying there to allow the pain to subside. He'd won, but only after performing an underhanded trick. He could have killed Bane with the emergency tactic. Never again.

The police moved in and escorted Bane, after his Venom tube had been disconnected, into a police van and drove off with him to police headquarters. Batman stared blankly at the red Gotham sky for several minutes, when he noticed René Montoya, the police commissioner now, standing over him.

"Is that you, Batman? Are you all right?" She asked.

Batman, now feeling well enough to move, activated the retract function on the exo-suit. It retreated into its compact form, and he sighed.

"I'm fine, now. But this suit was almost the death of me." He admitted.

"It did the job, you brought Bane down. Need any help?" She offered him a hand. He took it, and together, they managed to get him to his feet.

He thanked her and moved back toward the Batmobile.

"Batman…. this city can never repay you for what you've done for it. For over thirty years, you've been protecting us." She began.

"What's your point, Commissioner?" He asked.

"What I mean to say is…. did you ever think about retiring? You've done so much for others…. don't you think you should stop before you end up getting killed in your old age?" She asked.

"Never." He said, climbing into the Batmobile. Before the canopy closed, he finished with: "I only stop the day I find I'm no longer physically able."

And with that, he blasted back to the Batcave.

- - -

After he had returned, then, he toned the suit down to only triple the strength (as not to ever strain his heart again), and he had removed the electro-trap. But he hadn't used it again after that, he instead began building the more advanced suit he used the last night of his career, the suit Terry now wore.

Now suited up, Bruce retracted the armor into its smaller form and buttoned up his trenchcoat. He'd forgotten how heavy it was, his legs creaked and he winced. _Get on with it, Batman. You've got to rescue the boy._

He walked through the cave up to Wayne Manor and, stopping to find a pair on sunglasses, a hat and a scarf (He did have to hide his identity; after all), he took his unmarked car out to the old Gotham Hills Arena.

Arriving, it had continued raining. He exited the car and, looking around carefully, entered the abandoned arena.

Once inside, he glanced around again. "Hello?" he asked. There was no answer.

He walked forward, through the turnstiles. Turning a corner, he heard a groaning.

He turned and looked, aghast. In front of him lay a creature vaguely in the semblance of a human. It looked more a blob than man. It shot its hand toward him, and Bruce took a step back, startled by the movement.

It approached him, speaking in a slurred monotone.

"She… only gave me half the…. treatment…." It trailed off.

Bruce walked forward to render assistance, when he heard a clang. he turned around, and ran forward to the edge of the hall and peeked around the corner.

There, somewhat obscured by the shadows, stood Terry.

_Thank God._ Bruce thought, _I won't need to spring into action like an old fool._

He walked forward, relaxed. "You got away?" he asked.

However, Terry didn't speak, he instead grinned. Bruce didn't like that sign….

All at once, Terry's mouth opened and a tendril shot out of his mouth, wrapping around Bruce, and transforming into a solid, spiraled lasso. Terry then transformed into Inque. Bruce should have known.

"He didn't get away…. and neither will you." Inque announced. Bruce grunted, his arms were pinned down by the "lasso," he couldn't reach the activator switch… he only hoped the pressure-sensitive emergency activator would kick in.

It did.

Suddenly, the shoulders of the costume ripped out of the trenchcoat, the leg extensions came down and the boots finished transforming. The mask came over his face in two parts and cast off his hat, scarf and glasses, a look of anger, almost of intensity came over his face as the mask formed. His adrenaline began pumping, for the first time in years.

The gauntlets formed and the arm guards extended out over the top of his fists. The transformation was complete.

He stood, moving an arm to the side of Inque's tendril-like arm, and shoved it out of the way, breaking the hold. Inque fell back a few feet.

He stood at his full height for the first time in over ten years, he thrust his arms outward and took a wide stance. His back stretched, and he arched the back, feeling suddenly more alert and alive than he had in a long time.

So this was it? He was going to have to engage Inque? So be it. It was time for Batman, the original Batman, to come out of retirement, if only for a moment.

He walked forward, hunched down with his arms out, ready to demolish the… creature he now faced. He would teach her a new level of pain.

Inque sent a tendril forward. Bruce dodged it and moved in with his left hand, delivering an uppercut that sent Inque, literally screaming, across the room to a wall, smacking into it and falling down to the floor. Chained to the ring, Terry watched Bruce with a mixture of awe and worry.

Bruce—Batman once more—ran forward on the steps and leapt halfway across the room, landing on one foot and running toward Inque to continue the lesson in pain.

Inque dodged around him and he stopped, turning to face the slithery foe. Inque threw one tendril, which he shoved out of the way, and other, to which he did the same. Batman put an arm up to guard.

That was his mistake.

Inque wrapped her arm around his, and, holding him in place, threw an uppercut which sent him flying into a wall. His suit shorted out and he fell to the ground, unable to move.

"NO!" Terry cried out. Bruce—his day as Batman was over after all—cursed himself under his breath. He was a fool to think he could play the hero at his age.

And now, he and Terry were about to pay for it with their lives.

Just as Inque was about to deliver the final blow, that blobular creature Bruce had seen earlier stood in the way.

"Out of my way!" Inque declared.

The creature was saying something about a promise. Inque declared him a loser, and all at once, she moved to hit the poor thing and she became entangled in his genetic structure. They fought and tumbled into the structure for the ring, which fell over and knocked Terry onto his side.

That done, Inque looked back to Bruce and began to approach him again, forming her tendril into a spike. Bruce narrowed his eyes at the approaching rogue.

Bruce watched Terry free himself from the fallen support beam and throw a Batarang skyward.

All at once, the skylight shattered, and the rain began to fall inside the old building, dousing Inque in the lethal-to-her downpour.

She grunted, screamed, and ran for cover, trying to shield herself from the rain. Both Bruce and Terry watched her retreat, until she had absorbed so much water that she literally melted away, screaming, her liquid remains running down a nearby indoor drain.

Terry—the new Batman—turned to Bruce. He sat up and grunted, eventually freeing his hand from the ground and making the mask retreat into the suit. Bruce looked up at his young successor.

"Now do you believe me about why I retired?" He asked.

"Not entirely," the young Batman said, "but tonight, I'm glad you didn't _stay _retired." Bruce smiled.

Together, they walked over and looked at Inque's remains, running down the drain. Bruce looked down at it as if it was his soul, his whole career…. being washed away with her, and for the first time in a long time, he remembered just how frail he truly was.

"Poor deluded fool." He announced, partially about Inque, partially about himself. He knew now, finally realized, that his day in the mantle was over, and he could never return.

He looked over at Batman and realized that in this suit, he was at his full height, where usually, he was the same size as McGuiness due to his hunch. Just another thing to remind him how far he'd fallen.

But for some reason, it didn't hurt so badly now. Before tonight, there had always been the idea that he could return if there was a dire enough need. Now, with that assumption finally broken, he felt a certain peace about his age. Glancing over at his young co-hort, he knew that Gotham was in good hands, he no longer had anything to prove, least of all, to himself.

Finally, after a twenty-year doubt, he was truly retired.


End file.
